


Holidate

by danpuff



Series: Christmas Romance - 2020 [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background Poly, Background Relationships, Background snarry, Breaking Up & Making Up, Christmas Romance, Coming Out, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, M/M, Mistletoe, Self-Indulgent, different sexualities and relationship dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27839839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danpuff/pseuds/danpuff
Summary: Draco and Ginny aren't ready to come out, so they decide to "date" for the holiday.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley
Series: Christmas Romance - 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037853
Comments: 11
Kudos: 55





	Holidate

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the same world as [The Perfect Tree](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27698726), a Percy/Neville story and [The Christmas Prince](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27780880), a snarry story. All 3 can be read on their own.

It was the best idea Draco had ever had. Well, sure, he’d had help. And, sure, they had both been drunk. Draco thought he would leave out Ginny Weasley’s input and the firewhisky when he retold the story. 

It began with a blind date, of all things. Draco had only agreed because he was a truly stellar friend, so of course he would support dear Pansy’s new matchmaking scheme. It wasn’t as if he needed help getting dates, mind. Though, perhaps if Pansy set him up with a proper pureblood witch, it would temporarily fend off parental pressure to settle down. It was just the reprieve he needed until he was brave enough to come out to them...or until he could find a proper pureblood witch (who would turn a blind eye to certain indiscretions) to settle down with. 

With that in mind, Draco was furious to find that Pansy had paired him with a wizard. Pansy knew he was gay, but she also knew he was _still in the bloody closet._ And to set him up with a Weasley, no less! 

For it was Ron Weasley who possessed the white rose that matched his own. Ron Weasley who sat slouched in his chair, munching on bread. Ron Weasley’s (full) mouth that dropped open upon seeing him, and Ron Weasley’s (stupidly) blue eyes that widened in horror. “You’re joking.”

Draco lifted his nose imperiously. “Jokes are meant to be funny, Weasel. This is a travesty.” 

Though he was tempted, Draco did not look around the crowded tea shop to see if there were other white roses drifting around by mistake, and if Ron and Draco’s real dates were elsewhere. Draco kept his head held high and let Ron, trained Auror and working class man, do all of the work. 

Besides, it gave him plenty of time to look, though he schooled his features into an appropriately bored expression. It wasn’t that Ron was attractive, really. Sure, he was quite tall (and Draco did like tall men), and quite muscular (and Draco was quite fond of muscles), but that shaggy copper hair was crass, the constellation of freckles obscene, the blue of his eyes much too bright. It was such a Gryffindor look, that riot of color, that cry for attention. There was nothing elegant or classy to be found. And Draco was not so common as to fall for a pair of pretty blue eyes. 

“See something you like, then?” mocked Ron. 

“Just trying to decide how there are so many of you when you all look like that,” Draco retorted. 

What had Pansy been thinking? Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop was a nightmare on the best of days, and this was not the best of days. It was crowded and chaotic. The decor was garish, the food bland, the music cringeworthy. Worst of all the company, however big he was, with his oafish manners and his dull insults and his distracting freckles. 

Draco left midway through dinner because the food was unmanageable. (There was also the fact that Draco could not stop looking at those eyes, and Draco did not like eye contact, and he certainly didn’t go weak-kneed for _blue eyes_.) He dropped a stack of Galleons on the table with a snide, “Don’t worry, Weasley, that should cover it. I’m always generous to those in need.”

It was a nasty coincidence that he ran into yet another Weasley at the Hog’s Head. He was already drunk, and so was she, when she stumbled into his booth. Or, alright, perhaps he had stumbled into hers. It was the hair. It didn’t matter that she was much shorter and slimmer than her brother, you could hardly tell any of them apart with that hair.

“It’s ridiculous hair,” Draco slurred. 

“That’s what Pansy always said,” Ginny grumbled. “She liked it, though. I could tell.” 

Clearly, they needed more to drink.

“You and Pansy?”

“Used to be, yeah.”

“I didn’t even know she was gay,” Draco said, affronted. They were best friends, or so he had thought. Pansy knew he was gay. Knew enough to set him up with a wizard, though he had specifically requested a witch. 

Ginny scowled. Or tried to - it looked more like a squint to Draco. “That, Drakey-poo, was the problem.”

“Do not call me ‘Drakey-poo.’” 

“She used to call me ‘pookie’,” Ginny sighed. “I hated it. Miss it now, though.” 

“Oh, you’ve got it bad, Weasley.” 

This required yet more drinks, which prompted the whole sad tale to come out. Solid hate-sex turned sex-with-benefits turned full-blown-relationship. Ginny had fallen in love with Pansy and, with that love, found she had the courage to come out to her family. She had planned on doing it all at once, introducing Pansy as her girlfriend to the whole Weasley clan. They’d made plans for the holidays, her and Pansy, until Pansy chickened out and called the whole thing off. Not just their plans, oh no, but the whole relationship. 

Ginny was hiccupping and crying by the end of it, and even Draco was feeling rather teary-eyed. Ginny recovered quicker than he did, her pale skin flushing a (frankly unattractive) red. Her moping turned to ranting when she spoke of her blind date. Ginny had heard all about Pansy’s matchmaking business with Lavender Brown, and had approached her old house mate to request their service. Ginny had hoped that Pansy seeing her with another witch would provoke something. And, if not, would at least provide her with some good rebound sex. Only the matchmaking service had set her up with a wizard! 

“Cormac McLaggen,” Ginny spat with disgust. “You remember him?” 

“Yes. Nice arms, that one,” Drao said. 

“You are very gay, aren’t you?”

“Very, yes.”

“Well, I left him at Puddifoot’s if you want him. Hit him with a Bat-Bogey Hex, though.”

“Why?”

“You said you remembered him.” 

Which was a fair point. Arms aside, McLaggen wasn’t a pleasant bloke to be around. Draco decided he was better off in Ginny’s volatile company than anywhere near McLaggen’s ego. There were better arms out there, anyway. 

“Your brother has nice arms,” Draco stated. 

“What?”

Draco didn’t remember much after that, but he woke up with Ginny Weasley in his bed. Ginny Weasley, and scraps of parchment with near indecipherable words, but Draco got the gist of things well enough. Some of the stick figures helped. 

“Malfoy?” Ginny muttered sleepily. Then she shot up. “Malfoy! What did - did we?”

“Merlin no,” Draco snorted. “No offense, but I wouldn’t touch you even dead drunk.” 

Still, Ginny did a little check under the bedclothes just to be sure as Draco sorted out all of the notes. “Come see, Weasley.” He’d spent the better part of an hour unraveling what it all meant, and so certain was he of their goal that he didn’t understand her confusion. 

“Did we plan for world domination last night?” Ginny asked, squinting at the parchment. 

“Better than that. We planned for Christmas.”

It was simple. Without Pansy, Ginny was too heartbroken to properly come out, and she was too emotionally bruised to handle her mother’s nagging. Draco, while not heartbroken, was not as tough as Ginny and thus unwilling to put up with his own mother’s nagging. They were young yet, in no rush to marry. Certainly in no rush to marry the opposite sex. 

“We’ll be each other’s holiday dates,” Draco said.

“Holi-date!” Ginny said.

“That is horrendous, no. As I was saying. We parade around town arm-in-arm, make a good show of it. Then we turn up to various family gatherings madly in love. Keep up the charade at least through New Year. Announce a tidy little breakup after a few months, so it doesn’t look suspicious. All the better if we can stretch it until near Easter. We’ll be too broken-hearted for them to set us up right away,” Draco explained. 

Ginny frowned. “But Draco, we’re gay.”

Draco snorted. “No one knows. That’s the _point._ It’s only Pansy and your ‘Golden Trio.’”

He never could say the name without sneering. What a stupid name. “And here’s the thing: we could be bisexual. Isn’t that what Weasley - well, Ronald - and Granger purport to be?”

“They don’t purport, they just are,” Ginny snapped. 

“Whatever. Look, you’ve dated blokes before. I’ve dated birds. I even asked for a witch last night.”

“Pans can be such a -” Ginny agreed vehemently. 

“Right. Besides, I don’t think we owe anyone an explanation. We let them assume as they like. All we have to do is sell it,” Draco said. “Think about it. If we do well enough, Pansy might just be jealous.” 

Ginny raised a skeptical brow. “Of you?”

“Of anyone who has you when she doesn’t,” Draco said. 

Not that he knew this, of course. Draco had no idea what Pansy felt for Ginny, because Pansy hadn’t bothered telling him anything. If they had been together, and if Pansy had felt for Ginny what Ginny felt for her, it might be true. But Draco cared less about the truth than he cared about getting his way.

“It doesn’t matter to me if she’s jealous. I’m over it,” Ginny lied. As though she hadn’t spilled her heart to Draco the night before. 

Draco grinned, but bit back the mocking words that sprang to mind. If they were going to be working together, it was best not to antagonize his partner. Especially knowing the Weasley temper as well as he did. And her proficiency with hexes. 

And it went well. That very morning they brunched at Madam Puddifoot’s, whose holiday beverages were of higher quality than her food. They made a show of lunches and dinners, holiday shopping hand-in-hand down Diagon Alley, tree shopping in Hogsmeade, on and on. Draco wrote to his parents that he would bring home his girlfriend, and Ginny accompanied him to one of Blaise’s parties. In turn, Draco suffered through drinks with several Gryffindors. 

Including Ron. 

Those blue eyes were like the sky, and like the sky saw everything. They narrowed skeptically at Draco and Ginny, so the pair sidled closer until Ginny was half in his lap. He even kissed her full on the mouth. Not obscene, not chaste, but the right amount of _oomph_. Ginny fluttered her eyes at him after as beneath the table she pinched his leg. Hard. Draco gulped down his wine to mask the pain. 

“But you’re both gay!” Pansy had shrieked into his ear at the party, and it was those same words Ron echoed when he got Draco alone in the wizard’s room. 

Draco rolled his eyes then as he had with Pansy. “Do you always make assumptions about people, or is it only Slytherins?” 

“Look, I know my sister,” Ron said seriously, then ruined it completely by saying, “And you, well. You’re obvious.” 

Draco stood to his full height which, while not small, was not so tall (or broad, for that matter) as Ron. “What Ginny and I share is none of your concern, _Weasley_.”

“She’s my sister, of course it is!” Ron snapped. 

With as much dignity as he could muster, caught as he was by the bizarre urge to _kiss a ginger,_ (the correct ginger), he said loftily, “Perhaps you should mention this to Ginny, then.” and walked out of the loo. 

Barring Ron’s suspicions, the plan was working out just splendidly.

* * *

The plan was going horribly, horribly wrong. 

It seemed to start off well enough. Ginny hadn’t been too sure about parading around a fake boyfriend, but everyone took it in stride. At least, they took her having a boyfriend in stride. Not necessarily the “dating Malfoy” bit. 

But while Draco was an annoying prat, he was her annoying prat for now, and she vehemently defended him to anyone who dared question her choice in partner. Besides, it was nice to vent some of her frustrations on people with a seemingly solid excuse. 

Especially following Zabini’s party where Pansy had been. Pansy in her beautiful eggplant robes and her elegantly styled hair and pristine makeup. Pansy who used to doll herself up at Ginny’s flat, flirting across the room all the while. Pansy who had broken Ginny’s heart clean in two.

Not that she was still hung up about that, of course. 

Pansy did not buy her relationship with Draco, and was certainly not jealous, but that was fine. Ginny had drawn strength from his presence, anyway. And she felt much less foolish having someone on her arm and someone to dance with and someone to bring her wine, while her ex flitted around the party alone. Flirting with everything that moved, sure. But alone.

Ron, too, questioned their relationship, and more bluntly than Pansy had. Draco warned her when Ron had cornered him in the loo, and Ginny was prepared when Ron confronted her the next day. 

“What’s the matter, Ronniekins? Jealous I got to him first?” Ginny sweetly asked. 

Ron turned bright red and stuttered. “What? No!” 

It wasn’t fair, but Ron was too easily wound up, and Ginny had a game to play. “You’ve always had a thing for blondes, Ronald, don’t think I don’t know! He’s a looker, that’s all well and good. Look all you like. But you keep your filthy hands off of _my_ boyfriend!” 

“I don’t - my _hands_ \- that’s disgusting - Ginny, you - I - _what?_ ” 

“Don’t even try to come between Draco and me, Ron,” she warned, raising her wand. 

“Merlin! Gin!” 

Ron had left well enough alone after that. All seemed well, for a time. Ginny was confident. She was having fun. Draco was good company when he wasn’t being a total prat. He was ridiculous and dramatic, but also witty and intelligent. He was a very good shopper, with a keen eye for detail, and the gifts he helped her choose were all superb. He had excellent taste in food and wine, and he always paid for their meals (seeing as how he could bloody well afford it.)

Perhaps they would never have been friends were it not for mutual need. If they had never started up a drunken conversation at the Hog’s Head, Ginny would be facing the holiday alone. With her family, sure, but alone. Keenly aware of Pansy’s absence. Choking on the secret she had been so close to revealing. Stifled because she was tired of hiding, but too vulnerable still to brave it alone. 

Then the week before Christmas, during Sunday lunch, Ginny began to wonder if she should have braved it alone. 

The whole family was together. Ginny brought Draco along, and if her family was awkward around him, they were at least not openly hostile. Sure, the twins looked to be up to no good. And sure, Bill and her dad looked concerned. And her mum kept glancing between her and Harry, as if all of her hopes of reconciliation were being crushed. 

Then Harry crushed them further by asking, “Can I bring someone?” 

Molly had been pestering Charlie about potential girlfriends when Harry spoke up. Charlie was clearly uncomfortable, and Ginny loved Harry for saving her brother. “A special someone?” she teased.

As it happened, Harry did have a special someone. And that special someone was Severus Snape. Any questions her family might have had about Harry being with a man were quickly overcome by questions about Harry being with this particular man. After all, Harry having a boyfriend was one thing - Ginny knew he was gay. She had seen him snogging handsome blokes in clubs a time or two. He’d even dated her ex, Michael Corner, briefly. 

But _Snape?_ Surely Harry could do better than Snape. Michael Corner was much better than Snape, and he was a git. 

Only Ginny and the twins were properly outraged. Draco, Molly, and Athur were all gobsmacked. Fleur was amused. Bill and Charlie were skeptical. Hermione, Ron, and Percy appeared to have known all along. And Percy of everyone seemed the most accepting. Percy! Accepting! 

“He’s going to be around for - for a while,” Harry said as steadily as he could. 

“Well...Of course. Of course, dear. You - you bring Severus along then.” Molly said.

Which prompted Percy to strain upwards - he already sat so straight, all attempts at greater height were downright unnatural. “Excellent! In that case, Neville will also be joining us, Mother.” 

“N-Neville?” Molly repeated. 

“Yes,” Percy said, puffing out his chest. “We’re seeing one another now.”

Molly’s mouth dropped. Her gaze flicked between Percy and Harry, then settled on her third born son. “You - you’re - “ 

“Dating Neville, yes,” Percy agreed. 

“That’s great, then!” Harry said cheerfully. 

“Percy’s gay?” Ginny mouthed to Bill who shrugged. 

The twins exchanged a look. Charlie frowned seriously at his half-eaten sandwich. Bill scratched the back of his neck and looked at his wife, who was resolutely staring down into her glass of wine. Ginny nudged Draco under the table, and Draco nudged her back. There was a strange tension in the air. She felt it, and so did he. 

“Well if Percy can be gay,” Fred said.

“And Harry,” George added.

“And Harry can bring the dungeon bat to a family gathering,” Fred continued.

“Oh, knock it off!” Harry snapped.

“Then we can bring Angelina,” the twins finished as one. 

“Oh,” said their dad, surprised. “Is one of you seeing Angelina?”

“We both are,” Fred grinned.

“Like so,” George said, creating a triangle with his fingers. Fred grinned and helpfully traced the triangle with his finger.

Molly and Arthur stared at them. Everyone stared at them, really. 

“At least she has girly bits!” Fred defended. 

“ _Womanly_ bits,” corrected George.

“Just so, dear brother!” 

“Well,” said Bill. For some reason, both Fleur _and_ Hermione glared at him. “While we’re on that subject…”

Dad sighed. “Yes, son?”

While Bill, Fleur, and Hermione all silently conferred (which really should have said it all), Ron piped in, “Well, I’m single, but I am bisexual. Just so you know.” Harry smiled and clapped Ron on the shoulder. Ron smiled at his friend, then at Ginny, though it had turned decidedly smug for her. 

“Fleur and I have an open marriage,” Bill finally said.

“Open?” Mum repeated, bewildered.

“Yes,” agreed Bill. “Fleur is polyamorous, so she is free to have boyfriends or girlfriends or lovers.” He shrugged. “I could, too, but I’m not interested in anyone else.” 

Molly and Arthur gaped at them. 

“You let your wife... _cheat_ on you?” Molly demanded furiously. 

“Zis ees not _cheating!_ ” Fleur spat. 

“We have an agreement, Mum. Dad. As long as she tells me and we keep open lines of communication, it is not cheating,” Bill explained. 

“Eet ees our life, mine and Bill’s,” Fleur responded snootily. 

“And, uh, mine,” Hermione volunteered faintly. She sat very stiff in her chair, but she relaxed once Fleur turned a warm smile to her. “Fleur and I are seeing each other.” 

Arthur frowned. Molly was red-faced and gulping in air - rearing up for a good rant about the sanctity of marriage, no doubt. Ginny held Draco’s hand under the table and squeezed it for all she was worth. Draco winced, but patted the top of her hand with his free, uninjured one. Ginny looked around at her siblings, all at varying levels of terrified relief. Ginny felt all of the terror and none of the relief. 

Then Charlie sighed. “I suppose I should tell you I’m asexual and aromantic, and I’ll never bring _anyone_ home.” 

And that was what it took for Molly to slump in her chair, all of the fight gone out of her. Arthur patted her back and summoned rum to add into her eggnog. 

The words were clogged in her throat. It was now or never, but - she couldn’t do this now! Ginny swallowed the words back and narrowed her eyes at the twins. “Did you plan this?”

They snickered. George replied, “We wish! Who could’ve predicted this?”

“Really couldn’t have seen Bill’s news coming,” Fred said.

“That’s Beauty, Brains, _and_ Brawn,” George added. 

“Mum’s probably feeling much better about you now, Malfoy,” Fred said. 

“Unless you’ve got a girlfriend, too, Gin,” laughed George. 

She didn’t. Not anymore. And to think it might not have mattered. Harry outing himself had created a domino effect, and now her siblings were smiling and clapping each other’s backs, sharing a camaraderie she could take no part in, not now. The truth burned in her throat and Ginny blinked rapidly. Draco squeezed her hand. 

“Can we have some wine, Fleur?” Draco asked. 

Lunch was a bit early to be drinking, but if ever there was a time it was now. Fleur fixed glasses for Ginny and Hermione, the latter of whom moved to sit on Fleur’s other side. Fleur absentmindedly played with Hermione’s curls while murmuring to Bill. Arthur had arm around Molly as she nursed her eggnog. The easy affection made her heart ache. 

Her siblings all seemed closer than ever, and with a bit of rum in her, Molly began to fuss over them all and demanded they bring all of their partners with them for Christmas. She fussed most over Ron (“of course any girlfriend _or_ boyfriend would be welcome, Ronnie”) and Charlie (“you - you have friends in Romania, at least? Close friends?”) And she was much warmer to Draco than she had been, giving him a big hug and kisses to both cheeks as he and Ginny left. Ron escaped Molly’s clutches and followed them out to the front gate.

“Mum’s real pleased to have _one_ normal kid,” Ron snarked.

“Not the time, Ron,” Draco sniped. 

“You could have said something. Even if you didn’t want to ‘fess up to everything,” Ron said, eyes narrowed at Draco. 

“I’ll come out when I damn well please, Ronald!” Ginny hissed. 

“Fine. But stop lying to _me_ , Gin.” Ron frowned seriously at her. “You know I know. And I get why. Just - don’t lie, not to me.” 

In response, Ginny glared at him and laced her fingers through Draco’s and pulled him away.

* * *

The following weekend was Hogsmeade’s holiday festival. Draco let himself be dragged to the event by his girlfriend - well, fake girlfriend. Ginny was more committed than ever to play a convincing couple, and even Draco was starting to be fooled. 

Draco hoped Ginny wasn’t fooled. Imagine if he had to be her boyfriend forever. All because the stupid Weasleys couldn’t keep their mouths shut. Their shenanigans caused Ginny to feel left out, and disappointed at missing her opportunity to come out. Upset as she had been that evening, it had pushed her to be all the more loving in the week that followed.

If Draco wasn’t so disturbed by the whole thing, he would be impressed. Ginny was tough. She came out of the initial upset with her fighting spirit intact, and a fierce gleam in her eye. Pansy Parkinson didn’t stand a chance, be it fending off hexes or fending off kisses. Not when Ginny was dressed in such stylish winter robes with a tasteful touch of makeup and a firm grip on Draco’s hand (though Draco really hoped to duck out of the way before any violent or romantic attacks took place.) Ginny paid their three knuts each and dragged him over to their group of friends. Blaise (with Astoria) and Pansy of Draco’s crowd, and Ron, Hermione (with Fleur), and Harry (with Severus) of Ginny’s. 

Ginny didn’t glance twice at Pansy as she greeted the group merrily. Draco, for his part, stared openly at Harry and Severus - Severus with his hand on Harry’s lower back, leaning down to murmur in Harry’s ear while Harry smiled up at him. Harry, in a silly holiday jumper featuring a gingerbread man holding a carton of eggnog. Draco raised a brow, caught Ron’s eye, and jerked his head in that direction. Ron frowned, looked down at Harry’s jumper, and laughed quietly. 

At that point it was harder looking away from Ron than it was the odd couple.

There was plenty to do at the festival. Tables lined the streets, selling wares or hosting crafts. Every shop announced sales or contests or games or performances. 

Hermione and Fleur walked with their arms looped around each other’s waists. Severus took Harry’s hand, causing the young man to beam up at him. Ginny clung to Draco’s arm and took the lead, as she was wont to. Draco noticed that Ron and Pansy both tried to keep up with them, but Ginny would change direction or speed if Pansy got too close. Draco found himself strangely bitter about being pulled away from Ron. 

“The twins set up a funhouse in the joke shop,” Ginny told him as they wound around crowded tables. 

“Oh no, I’m not going anywhere _near_ there,” Draco said.

“Spoilsport.” 

Together they decorated ornaments at a table with Hermione and Fleur. Then Draco participated in a cookie decorating contest with Harry and Blaise, which Draco was proud to win. Draco gave his winning cookie to Ron, solely because he was a bottomless pit, and his stomach certainly did not flutter watching Ron stuff the whole thing into his mouth at once. Ginny dragged him off shortly after that for a story reading at the bookshop.

They crafted paper snowflakes, and wreaths, and gingerbread houses. They watched Hermione and Blaise compete in a trivia contest (that Hermione won), then Ron and Harry in a cookie eating contest (that Ron won), then participated themselves in a carol singing contest (that they soundly lost). They played a game juggling ornaments that ended disastrously. The snowman building contest ended in a snowball fight, which Severus thoroughly dressed them down for when he was hit by a stray. The cold activities were followed up with hot cocoa at Madam Puddifoot’s. 

Draco finally shook himself free when Ginny went to explore the funhouse with Harry and Hermione. Severus and Fleur waited outside the door chatting in French, but Draco only briefly considered joining them. He had more important matters to tend to.

“Ginny’s in the funhouse, if you’re looking for her,” Draco told Pansy as he passed. She gave him a panicked look, but made a beeline for the joke shop. Ginny would have a hard time escaping her there and it served her right.

“That was nice of you,” said a voice from behind. Draco squeaked, but the sound was thankfully lost in the noise of the crowd as he spun around. Just the man he had been looking for, though Draco had hoped to make a grander impression. 

“It was not _nice.”_ Draco’s tone was appalled. “It was strategic.” 

Two ginger brows climbed towards shaggy ginger fringe. “Strategic?” 

“It is the way of Slytherins to have a strategy for success,” Draco explained slowly. Ron scowled at his condescending tone. “Strategic is the adjective form of strategy, meaning - “

“Meaning you're a prick with a plan,” Ron snapped. 

Draco smirked. “Precisely.” 

“Is your strategy to...to get Ginny and Pansy together? Or back together?” 

“That is a happy side effect,” Draco replied. 

“Then what are you up to, Malfoy?” 

“Well, since you’re following me around like a lost puppy, you’ll see soon enough.”

Ron was, in fact, following where Draco led. His taller, bulkier form did not move as easily through the crowd as Draco’s slimmer shape, but his years on a broom had taught him to move, and he ducked and darted around easier than most men his size. 

“I just don’t trust you,” Ron said.

“A likely excuse. After your years following Potter and Granger, all you know how to do is follow your betters,” Draco said. There was a skip in his step, either in pride of his clever remarks or pleasure at having Ron’s attention. Most likely the former, he was sure, but there was the possibility for both. “Don’t know how to go your own way, do you?” 

“This isn’t the same thing,” Ron argued.

“No. I don’t think you look at their bums half as much,” Draco quipped. 

“I’m not - ! I don’t - ! I - your _bum_ \- no - I don’t - “ 

Draco grinned over his shoulder. Gingers turned red so easily, didn’t they? The color clashed with his copper hair, and the blue of his eyes stood out all the more. Draco was caught by the color for a second too long and ended up sprawled face first in the snow after tripping over - _something_. Not his own two feet, surely. Must have been a stray spell or mischievous fairies. 

Ron chortled, but the sound was not unkind. “There are better ways to show off your bum, Malfoy,” Ron teased. Draco rolled onto his back to glare up at him. Ron stood there, clear blue sky overhead, his furious flush fading as a sunshiney smile grew. He extended one freckled hand to Draco, who could not help the childish urge to grab and pull. 

“Now I _know_ Ginny isn’t dating you,” Ron grumped as he spat snow out of his mouth. Draco sat up and flung Ron’s heavy arm off of him with a self-satisfied smile. Ron’s leg held both of his down, but Draco lifted that as well and pushed Ron onto his back. “She’s too mature for you.” 

“Bat-Bogey Hexes are not _mature_.” 

“Got you a few times, did she?” 

“She fights dirty.” 

This time, when Ron stood and stupidly extended his hand again, Draco accepted the help. His hand was warm and Draco dropped it the moment he could. The warmth was too much temptation. He wanted it everywhere. 

“Now, are you going to explain what you’re up to?” Ron asked. 

“Well, we’re here now.” Draco nodded ahead. 

CHRISTMAS TREE MAZE, ENTRY: 10 SICKLES read the sign in front of Neville’s tree lot. A wooden table was set up outside with a string of red lights wrapped up the legs and around the edge. Luna Lovegood stood behind it with the money box. She smiled vaguely into the distance, whispering and giggling every so often. Draco nearly turned around to start on Plan B when Luna turned her eerie smile onto them. “Hello, Ron. Hello, Draco.”

“Entry for two, please,” Draco said. He placed two Galleons on the table. “Keep the change.” 

“Thank you,” Luna turned to look at the maze. “Should only be a few minutes. You can go when they turn green.” She motioned to the string of lights. “Neville’s giving prizes at the end.” 

“Ooh, a _prize,_ ” mocked Draco. 

“Hey, I like prizes,” Ron said. 

“There are trologs hiding under the trees,” Luna said breezily. “And nargles in the mistletoe, so please be careful. I can check you after, if you come back here.” 

Ron stepped on Draco’s toes before he could say anything rude. 

When the lights turned green and the red ropes parted, Draco led Ron into the maze. Luna called one last warning about trologs and nargles. Trologs meant nothing to Draco, but nargles - nargles meant mistletoe, and that was the warning that echoed in his head. The prospect of kissing Ron was both thrilling and daunting. 

As a maze, the tree lot had undergone very notable changes. The clusters of trees were taller and more artfully arranged - but more than that, they were all decorated. Some had garland or ribbons or baubles or bubbles or fairies. Some even had candy canes, which Ron nicked and munched on as they walked. 

“Is this your dastardly plan, then? Plan on ruining Neville’s maze?” There was a warning in Ron’s voice that conveyed the proper level of disdain, even though he spoke with his mouth full of sharp candy bits. 

“Not _ruining_. What do you take me for?” 

“Smarmy, evil git?” 

The insult bothered Draco more than he cared to admit. Smarmy, while untrue, was one thing. Git was as uncreative as one would expect from a Weasley. Evil was the one. It should have lost all flavor after the first thousand or so times, and perhaps it meant as little now as it had back in school. Only - did Ron still see him as the villain? As a Death Eater? 

Draco charged ahead in a huff - and smacked right into a dead end when he took a left too hard. The tree he hit hit him back, branches working in unison to throw Draco back. 

He landed hard on his bottom and cringed as he sat up. The ruffled tree tossed a gold bauble his way, though his experience as a Seeker allowed him to grab it before it smacked into his forehead. 

“Don’t be like that,” Ron said uncomfortably. He extended his hand, but Draco swatted it away and stood on his own. He threw the ornament back at the tree and stormed off with Ron hot on his tail. “I know you’re sensitive, Draco, but you’re not usually this sensitive.” 

“I’m not _sensitive!_ ”

“Sorry - no, okay, that was - “ Ron jogged up and jumped in front of Draco to make him stop. He rubbed his face. “I’m sorry. You’re not evil.” He smiled awkwardly. “Snooty, sure. And pesky.” 

“Hey!”

“And you’re a bit of a prat. But you’re not evil,” Ron said. 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Well...yeah.” 

Draco rolled his eyes and bit back a smile. He did not want to smile. Ron did not deserve his smile. Because Ron’s pitiful apology shouldn’t have made him feel better, but it did. 

“You’re boorish, of course,” Draco told him.

“Uh huh.”

“Scruffy. Unfashionable. Mediocre. Poor,” Draco carried on gleefully. 

“Yeah, yeah. Feeling better…?” Ron trailed off as his eyes flicked up to the movement above them. Draco followed his gaze to the circling mistletoe. He swallowed. Before he could even blink, Ron swooped in to hastily kiss the corner of his mouth. Then he took off, the back of his neck bright red, and Draco stumbled after him in a daze.

That was _it?_ Just a quick peck, not even properly on the mouth? Draco wanted to complain, but he couldn’t have Ron thinking he wanted to kiss him. 

They hit several more dead ends those next few minutes. Ron would spin around and carry on, and fidgeted whenever Draco got too close. Draco followed him, growing sulkier by the minute. 

The second mistletoe made its appearance when they hit their seventh dead end. It came immediately upon a right turn, causing Draco to crash into Ron’s back. Draco didn’t need to see the mistletoe, only Ron scowling upwards to know. The idea that Ron was so upset over kissing him again irritated Draco, who took the only revenge he could: he mimicked Ron’s earlier action and kissed the corner of his mouth. The only difference was, Draco’s lips possibly lingered a moment longer than Ron had, but - well, this was meant to be revenge, wasn’t it? 

His lips tingled in protestation as he moved away, wanting much more than the teasing touch. They wanted to really feel and taste Ron, which was plain unacceptable, particularly with Ron’s behavior. 

Only the way Ron was looking down at him now, soft and surprised, Draco was tempted to give it a proper go, even though the mistletoe had wandered off. Draco’s eyes dipped down to Ron’s mouth, which was hanging open in a way that was definitely disgusting and not at all endearing, then back up to the blinking blue eyes. 

“Uh - come on, then. I want my prize,” Ron said. This time when he darted ahead, Draco looked after him thoughtfully before following.

* * *

Ginny had fun in the funhouse, and did not think of Pansy at all until she showed up. 

It began innocently enough with shifting floors and distortion mirrors and Christmas confetti raining down on them. They were chased by flying reindeer plushies until the floor beneath them turned into a slide that dumped them into a ball pit in the basement. The soft balls were shaped like large ornaments, which they used to pelt the plushies.

Once Ginny, Harry, and Hermione climbed out of the ball pit they were caught in a large orb that rolled them into the next room. Large marshmallows rolled around with them, and Ginny was sure it gave the appearance of an overly large snow globe with three hapless wizards being thrown to and fro. Hermione shrieked unhappily, but Harry and Ginny laughed and tried to catch the marshmallows in their mouths. 

The orb popped when they arrived in the new location. It seemed calm enough when they got to their feet. Giant candy canes hung on one wall and giant gingerbread men were plastered opposite. In one corner stood a Christmas tree surrounded by several gift boxes. Ginny eyed the wall decor suspiciously as Hermione walked briskly forward. 

The top of the largest gift box popped open to reveal a laughing Santa-figure. Hermione shrieked and stumbled backwards. One of the candy canes shot out and hooked around her waist to lift her into the air. 

“Hermione!” Ginny and Harry shouted. Harry drew his wand but was distracted when the gift boxes all zoomed around his ankles. 

“Is this what constitutes fun in your family?” 

Ginny spun around. Pansy stood behind her pouting. Pouting because her perfectly coiffed tresses had been ruffled and her elegant blush pink robes were doused in silver glitter. 

Ginny wanted to reach out to comb her fingers through the dark hair and help brush away the glitter. She wanted to kiss that obnoxious little pout. She also itched to grab her wand. Perhaps her pretty little face would look less pretty with bats flying out of her nose. 

“What are you doing here, then?” Ginny demanded.

Pansy shrugged casually. “Thought I would see what all of the fuss was about.” 

“Ginny, we could use your help!” shouted Harry. He was trying to squirm out of a gingerbread man’s hug while Hermione was passed from candy cane to candy cane. The presents, meanwhile, swarmed around Pansy and Ginny’s ankles like puppies. 

“Fred! George!” Ginny shouted up at the ceiling as she drew her wand. “I want my sickles back!” Pansy kicked one of the presents as she drew her own wand. Ginny peered at Pansy even as she aimed her wand at the gingerbread man. “You followed me.” 

“I did not!” Pansy lied. 

There was no time to wrangle the truth out of her. Pansy worked on freeing Hermione from the candy canes. Ginny sort of helped Harry - the gingerbread man tossed Harry into the pile of presents in order to hug Ginny instead. The presents surged over Harry while Ginny struggled to aim her wand at the cookie. 

By the time they were through there were hundreds of thousands of cookie and candy pieces scattered across the floor. The gift boxes scampered away from the oncoming witches to cower beneath the tree. Harry was on the floor, wrapped in shiny green paper and gold ribbon with only his head exposed. Just as Hermione and Ginny kneeled down to unwrap him, Pansy smiled slyly, “You know, we could deliver him to Snape like this.” 

Hermione frowned disapprovingly as Ginny grinned. 

Ten minutes and only two disasters later, they made it to the end of the funhouse. Four house elves dressed as Santa’s helpers offered them goodie-bag stockings filled with stickers and candy and assorted knick-knacks. 

Hermione stalked out of the shop with her nose in the air. Ginny and Pansy followed, carrying Harry between them. Hermione crossed her arms as she watched them. Fleur giggled. Snape quirked a brow as his lover was set before him. 

“Go on,” Harry said, red-faced, but grinning. “Unwrap me, then.” 

“Adorable,” drawled Snape dryly. Harry just smiled at him as if he had meant it fondly. Ginny eyed their ex-professor, still wary of him and his intentions towards Harry, but Pansy snickered at her side and the sound distracted her. 

“Why were you following me, Pans?” Ginny demanded.

“I wasn’t _following_ you,” Pansy huffed. 

Pansy wasn’t the sort to care for joke shops or funhouses. Certainly not enough to stay once she’d been doused in glitter. Ginny’s eyes narrowed at her ex. Lovely, aloof Pansy. Ginny hated her. Adored her. 

She was staring too hard and too long at Pansy, and Pansy looked back sadly. Hermione and Harry exchanged confused glances. Fleur murmured something about giving them space and the four wandered off together. Ginny wished they hadn’t. 

Nearly a year they had been together. Sure, it hadn’t begun as a great romance, but time had tempered rivalry into attraction into friendship into love. Love for the whiny, petulant, malicious...funny, creative, vivacious...lovely, sad, vulnerable witch in front of her. 

Pansy licked her lips. “Ginny, I…”

Ginny swallowed past the tightness in her throat. Pansy missed her. Pansy still cared for her. But Pansy had let her fear of commitment and fear of coming out tear them apart. She had panicked and lashed out and broken Ginny’s heart. Ginny could understand that feeling. Maybe she could forgive it one day, but she could not forgive it yet. 

Ginny shook her head and walked away, blinking the tears out of her eyes. She felt Pansy’s gaze follow her through the crowd, but she did not stop. She walked faster and faster, because she was scared, too.

* * *

“Why don’t you go talk to her?”

It was Christmas Eve at Malfoy Manor, time for the Malfoys’s annual holiday soiree. The ballroom was elegantly decorated in white, gold, and silver with no trace of seasonal warmth in sight. White tree with silver and gold ornaments; icicle garland around door frames and window frames and mantle; glass snowflakes dangling from the ceiling; white poinsettias in glass vases. It made for a cold and elegant setting for the cold and elegant family. 

The Malfoys themselves dressed the part with Lucius and Draco in silver robes, Narcissa in white, and even Ginny in the gold robes his parents gifted her before the party. The delicate gold jewelry were Draco’s gifts to her. It hadn’t occurred to him how uncomfortable she would be with such opulence, and though this was clear in her face, she graciously thanked them and reluctantly wore everything for the party. 

“Talk to who?” Ginny stubbornly asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. Dozens of dolled up aristocrats attended these events each year. All the same faces - Blaise and his beautiful mother, the Crabbes and Goyles, the Notts, et cetera. Guests were always welcome, of course, but the three Gryffindors stood out like sore thumbs. Ginny and Ron with their vivid red hair; and Harry with his famous scar, not to mention his older, unpleasant, not to mention infamous date. 

Like most people, Ginny’s eyes were drawn to the corner where Harry and Severus stood. But it was not the odd couple she watched, nor was it her brother (though didn’t Ronald clean up well, in those navy blue robes - but no, _Draco_ wasn’t staring at anyone.) It was the dark-haired witch in cream colored robes Ginny watched. Pansy was chatting their ears off, which Harry and Ron politely listened to and Severus impolitely ignored. 

“Pansy’s been asking about you, you know,” Draco said. 

Ginny lips pressed thinly together, as though keeping the question she wanted to ask locked up tight. 

Gryffindors. They really did require you to spell it all out. “I think she misses you.”

“She knows where to find me,” Ginny replied stiffly. 

“You still love her, don’t you?”

“It’s over.”

“That is not an answer.” 

“It’s the only answer you’re getting.”

“Ginny -”

“Everything alright, darlings?” Narcissa asked. As always, she moved quietly and gracefully while sneaking upon the unwary. 

“Of course, Mother,” agreed Draco. “Ginny’s only feeling a tad shy.”

Ginny shot him a mutinous look. Naracissa gave her a faint smile and her tone was carefully neutral when she said, “Is that so? I always thought the Weasleys were a rather...ah...exuberant bunch.” 

“Yes, but I’ve never been around such _splendor,_ ” Ginny simpered and, really, that was laying it on a bit thick. Her smile was grim even as she fluttered her lashes, so Draco grabbed her elbow and smiled at his mother. 

“I thought we would visit the other Gryffindors, Mother. Perhaps she’ll be more comfortable there,” Draco said. 

“I see.”

Ginny glared daggers at Draco, and sank her nails into his arm as he guided her across the room. She could hardly raise a fuss without drawing attention. Draco suffered her claws with dignity. This was for her own good, whether she liked it or not. And Draco’s, as well, tired as he was of both of their moping. 

“Ginny!” Harry exclaimed gratefully. “Draco.”

Pansy turned and smiled hopefully at Ginny. She didn’t even glance at Draco, the traitor. Dark brown met warm brown, and Pansy’s smile faded beneath Ginny’s frown. Draco pinched the back of Ginny’s arm. Her nails dug in all the harder until he grimaced. 

“Alright, love?” Ginny cooed at him. 

Draco grinned through the pain. “Just splendid, dear.” 

Severus gave them all a withering look. “I did not expect to be consorting with _children_ this evening.” 

“Well, you’ve been consorting with one child well enough lately,” Ginny shot back. 

“I’m not a child,” snorted Harry, though he looked painfully young in his red velvet robes. The style was too mature for a man so small, and did not suit his messy hair or fierce spirit in the slightest. 

His partner, meanwhile, was every inch a man in his austere black robes and his sharp, lined face. Dark to Harry’s vibrancy, age to his youth, cultured to his playfulness. Though not as wealthy or pureblooded or handsome as other guests, he was one of the most regal in bearing and Draco himself felt rather juvenile in comparison. 

“Ah, but you think yourself witty, do you, Miss Weasley?” Severus sneered. 

“Severus,” Harry admonished. 

“Ginny,” Pansy warned. Then proceeded to flush at her obvious familiarity, and remembrance that she had no right to it anymore. 

“Pansy,” Ginny snapped back.

“Harry,” Severus growled. 

“Draco!” Ron exclaimed dramatically.

“Ron,” Draco cooed, batting his lashes. 

Ginny’s lips twitched. Harry pressed his hand over his mouth. Draco tried to breathe through it. Ron snickered. But Pansy - Pansy roared with snorting, wailing laughter. The others held back as best they could, but soon all five were cackling madly. 

Severus was deeply unimpressed. “ _Children._ ”

“Would it make you feel better if I dance with you?” Harry asked. 

“Come,” said Severus and led Harry by the hand to the dance floor. 

“Oh, he’s got it bad,” Ginny snorted. “Harry _hates_ dancing.”

“Oh...I can see why,” Pansy said.

They all turned to watch as Severus led his clumsy partner through a waltz. Severus himself was an excellent dancer, often dancing with Celeste Zabini between husbands, or Narcissa Malfoy when Lucius was caught in business talks. If his dances with Celeste and Narcissa were elegant, his skill is all the more apparent with his red-faced, grimacing lover. But the humorous situation was quite sweet, really, the way Harry clutched onto him and the way he laughed in response to his lover’s murmured words. If anyone “Aww”-ed the scene it was Pansy and it was probably enough to mask any embarrassing noises Draco might have made. 

“You know, I really wondered what would come of those two, but I’m so glad they ended up together,” Pansy sighed dreamily. Her arms swayed as she spoke and she went up onto her tiptoes, eyes bright as she watched them. Draco knew this to be a very Pansy reaction, but what most surprised him was the softening of Ginny’s face as she looked at her. 

“Why’d you put them together then, if you didn’t have faith in them?” Ron asked.

“Oh, that wasn’t me,” Pansy said, dropping back down to her heels. She frowned in mild irritation. “Lavender and I have no idea what happened. Halfway through the night we realized our lists were all mixed up.” 

“What?” Ginny asked.

“It was terrible. We had all the couples decided and we assigned each a flower. Only we checked the names given and the corresponding flower, we didn’t think to look at the other column. It was Potter and Snape that brought it to our attention.” Pansy giggled and nudged Draco. “You were meant for Potter, actually.” 

“ _What?_ ” Draco was appalled. “He’s so short.” 

Pansy smirked and shot a knowing glance to Ron. “Yes, I know you like them tall. But he’s quite good-looking, isn’t he?” 

“And I told you a witch, besides,” Draco huffed. 

“I knew you were faking!” Ron announced, wagging his finger between Draco and Ginny. Ginny rolled her eyes and slapped his finger. Draco shook his head.

“Yes, yes, I know.” Pansy waved away the accusation. “So then I saw you with Weasley - well, Ronald here. And I was horrified. I mean, that hair! I knew you’d hate it.”

“I really did.”

“Hey!” the gingers exclaimed.

“Nearly all of our pairs were mixed up,” Pansy sighed. Her shoulders slumped. “Lav and I were devastated, of course. We put so much time and effort and _money_ into this venture. Oh, you must know it’s a passion of ours, love and romance. We knew, we just _knew_ , we could do this. And we have no idea what went wrong! The Blind Date Night was our big opening. But who will want to hire matchmakers after that disaster?” She hugged her arms around herself and Ginny stepped closer to her. Draco caught Ron’s eye, then looked at them pointedly. Ron, sweet idiot that he was, frowned in confusion. Draco rolled his eyes. “Only it seems Potter and Snape are working out...Who would have thought it?”

“No one,” Ginny said.

“Who was I meant for?” Ron asked.

“Oh, Romilda Vane,” Pansy replied. “She ended up with Dennis Creevey, but left him for Cormac once Ginny abandoned him. I really should have thought of those two.”

“Who was I meant for?” Ginny asked.

“Oh, Cormac. You were one of the few who ended up with your actual date,” Pansy giggled.

Ginny shot her a dirty look. “Cormac.” 

Pansy nervously patted at her perfectly coiffed hair as her nose rose into the air. The faint tinge of pink in her cheeks did not go unnoticed. By anyone. “You have no trouble finding dates, if I recall. You came to us with motive. So I treated your case as seriously as you did.” 

“You were too jealous to -” Ginny began, but cut off at the panicked look in Pansy’s eyes. Draco followed her gaze to the group old classmates creeping ever closer, doing their best to pretend they were not listening. 

“Perhaps we should take this to the garden?” Draco suggested, looping his arm through Ginny’s.

* * *

Ginny had no desire to see the Malfoy garden again. Less desire to talk to Pansy, as was the intent, and certainly not with her panicking over her old Slytherin cronies eavesdropping. It was a shame she could not make a big scene at this party. Instead, she grinned and beared it as Draco guided her out into the garden. This gave her time to prepare, to harden herself against whatever feelings lingered for Pansy. 

“Relax,” Draco whispered.

“Stuff it, Malfoy,” Ginny hissed. 

“Oi!” Ron fussed. 

The garden was beautiful. Narcissa had shown her around it earlier, told her all about the different blooms and her design scheme and a thousand other useless details about pretty things. So much effort had gone into the color palette - the roses had to flatter the lilies, and both had to flatter the stone, all of which had to flatter Narcissa’s complexion and style choices. It was a nightmare, and more up Pansy’s alley than Ginny’s. 

Pansy did like flowers, and she did pay attention to color, only Ginny didn’t mind so much being surprised with tulips or daisies. And she didn’t mind hearing how lovely the yellow petals were in her hair, or the purple against her fair skin. And she didn’t mind buying chrysanthemums with her own galleon just to watch Pansy smile. 

“Here you are, _darling,_ ” Draco drawled. He brought her to a stone bench hidden among the rose bushes. Ginny sank down onto the cold stone and crossed her arms over her chest as Pansy hesitantly sat beside her. “Do behave yourselves.” Draco grabbed Ron’s sleeve and dragged him off nearby, within distance to see, but giving a small semblance of privacy.

“I was horridly jealous and couldn’t pair you with a girl.” The words spilled out of Pansy as though they had been bottled up too long. “Lavender wanted you with Demelza. Oh, I couldn’t explain why I was so set on putting you with a man, and I had to convince her it wasn’t a prank, that I just knew you were best off with Cormac.” She sat straight as could be, proper pureblood girl that she was, hands clutched in her lap. Poor Pansy. She had always been too full of passion for the rigid standards of her upbringing. “Then I saw you with him and I - well, it wasn’t much better, you being with him. And I was so glad when you stormed off. Only, you started ‘dating’ Draco!” The way Pansy pouted, Ginny just knew she wanted to stomp her foot. Ginny regretted that she didn’t, however childish the gesture. “I knew it was fake all along, I just knew. You’re both so - so…well, gay! But even knowing that...even _knowing_ that...I was still so jealous!” 

Ginny held her shoulders straight, body rigid, fighting against the urge to melt. “Really?”

“Yes! I miss you, Gin. I’ve missed you since you left. Every single day,” Pansy said. She scooted closer to Ginny on the bench, but Ginny scooted away, right to the edge. Pansy held off closing the distance. Her fingers clutched in the folds of her cream robes. “I love you.”

Ginny bit the inside of her mouth. Coldness trickled down her spine, and maybe it was the wind, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was Pansy’s words, so longed for, and much too late. The wetness in her eyes was not cold, but hot. Ginny turned away from Pansy and opened them wide and willed the chill air to turn her tears to ice. She wanted to shake her head, wanted to say “no”, because she might just fall apart if Pansy said more. 

“I’m terrified, Ginny, I really am. I don’t know what to do. Well, I do, I think. I just don’t know how to do it. But I - I’ll do what you want. I’m - well, I’m not ready-ready, but I’m sort-of-ready to…” Pansy tentatively reached out, her hand warm and soft on her shoulder. “I love you. I’m ready to love you however you need me to. Openly, proudly. You’ll have to take care of me, of course, once I’m disinherited, and jobless since I’m a ruddy awful matchmaker. I’m prepared to be a kept woman, if that’s what it takes.”

Ginny laughed. She didn’t want to, but she laughed, and the floodgates broke and hot tears streamed down her face. She reached up and took Pansy’s hand in hers, and looked into the dark, hopeful eyes. 

“As long as I’m kept by you, of course,” Pansy whispered.

“Pans, that was terrible,” Ginny groaned. 

“It was romantic!” Pansy scoffed. 

“Cheesy.”

“Sweet.”

“Don’t quit your day job,” Ginny retorted. “Ask Harry to write a rave review of your dating service. And I think Romilda and Cormac are still seeing each other. Oh, didn’t Cho and Lee hit it off?” 

Pansy giggled. “All happy accidents, but a success story is a success story. And Draco and Ron, once they get a move on things.”

“Draco and Ron?” Ginny asked. She leaned forward to peer at the two. Off they stood, with Ron red faced and ranting while Draco stood tall and proud and very self-satisfied. “Are you sure?”

“Trust me. I’m a professional.”

* * *

Gingers were so easy to work up. If one could exploit this before the ginger had time to get their feet under them, one could sit back and enjoy the show. Prod the ginger every once and a while to keep the steam going. Revel in a job well done. 

Ron was sputtering more than anything, incoherent, and Draco dared add fuel to the flames. “You have more freckles than brains,” he chortled. 

“You’d know, wouldn’t you, the way you keep ogling them?” Ron snapped back.

Draco blinked. “Ogling your brains?”

“More like everything else!”

“Pardon me. What?”

There was a vicious gleam in Ron’s blue eyes. “You’ve been staring at me.”

“Well, all the spots are rather distracting, I’ll have you know. You should really get them looked at.”

“You should be able to tell me, with all the looking you’ve been doing!”

“I have not!”

Perhaps matters were becoming a tad childish. And a bit out of hand.

“Oh, boys!”

The sing-song voice of Pansy did not bode well. Ron and Draco turned to the witches who were grinning and waving at them. Then, they pointed up. Draco’s stomach flipped. Ron looked up before he did and cursed under his breath. Draco slowly dragged his eyes up to the mistletoe wiggling over their heads. 

Where had it even come from? His parents weren’t the type to play with silly traditions. Draco licked his lips as he took in Ron’s face. The redness of his cheeks had faded to a pretty pink that clashed horrendously with his orange hair. Ron rubbed the back of his neck, his blue eyes flicking about and never quite landing on Draco. All of the fight had rushed out of him and he looked ready to flee.

Draco really, really did not want that.

“Well! Do it properly this time, at least!” Draco snapped. 

“Properly?” Ron sputtered. 

“‘If you want something done right, do it yourself’ - that is such a _poor person_ concept,” Draco grumbled. He shot the giggling girls a glare as he grabbed the front of Ron’s robes and hauled him backwards. Back, deeper into the rose bushes, out of sight of windows and doors. “I’m very attractive, I’ll have you know. This is outrageous.” Draco grabbed those brutish hands and placed them right where he wanted them - on his waist. “You’re entirely useless, you know. I don’t know what I’m thinking.” He slid his own hands up into that atrociously orange hair and used it to tug his hideously gaping mouth right where he wanted it - over his. 

Thankfully, while Ron was a complete idiot, he at least got with the program quickly. The moment Draco’s lips touched his, he kissed back - finally! - and his arms wrapped around Draco to pull him closer. Embarrassingly, a pleased sound escaped Draco’s throat, even as he was pressed into a rose bush. One hand trailed down the back of Ron’s neck, across those admirable shoulders, down his strong back, down to his - 

“Whoa, okay, slow down,” Ron breathed against his mouth. 

“Why?” Draco whined. 

Ron’s laugh was quiet against his lips, and Draco shivered in response to the sound and feel of it. Ron shifted ever so slightly away, so Draco moved his roaming hands around to Ron’s chest. Which, really, was just as nice a place as any to touch. 

“Look, Draco. You’re really spoiled, and annoying, and at least semi-evil,” Ron said.

“Listen here, _Weasley!_ ” Draco tried to pull his hands away, but Ron’s covered them and held them in place. There was a mischievous glimmer in the blue eyes, and that smug grin only grew the deeper Draco pouted. 

“But I really like you anyway,” Ron said. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah. And, well, Pansy sorta thinks you might like me back.”

“Does she?”

“And she _is_ the expert.”

“All of her successes were accidents!”

“So are you saying you don’t want to go out with me?”

“...well, I didn’t say _that_. I was only pointing out a flaw in your argument.” 

Ron grinned at him. “Well?”

“Well, you could do it properly!” 

What Draco really needed was time to think. And space, probably. It was hard to think when Ron was so distracting. Eyes and hair should not be so bright or tempting. And those freckles - those stupid freckles - he had the most bizarre urge to count them all. Memorize each and every one. 

It was pure madness. 

Not to mention Ron himself was...well. Obnoxious, loud, unfashionable, rude, and insensitive. And Draco...well. Draco liked him, too. 

“Err, sure,” said Ron. “So. Will you go on a date with me? A, um, proper date, that is. And, uh, something private. I know you’re not ready to be, uh, out yet.” 

Draco relaxed a bit at this addition. “Define ‘proper date.’”

Ron grinned sheepishly. “I was hoping you’d tell me. Ow!” Ron swatted at the hand Draco had used to slap his arm. “Oh, Dean Thomas, in Games and Sports, owes me a favor. I could get us tickets to a Canons game!”

“The Chudely Cannons?” Draco snorted. “Can’t we see a _good_ team, like Puddlemere?” 

“The Cannons are a good team! A great team! They just have rotten luck!” Ron protested. “Besides. It’s, uh, not _that_ big of a favor.”

Draco just raised a brow. “Doesn’t your best friend seek for Pride of Portree?” 

“Oh, hey, there’s an idea,” Ron said. “Wait, you think Portree’s a good team? Wait til I tell Harry.”

“Don’t you dare.” 

“So...dinner, then? On Friday? And I’ll see if I can get us tickets to the Portree versus Puddlemere game,” Ron said. 

“Very well. I expect you’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

“Define ‘perfect.’ And ‘gentleman’ while you’re at it.” 

Draco sighed heavily. “You’re going to make me deeply regret this, aren’t you?” 

“You mean you’re not regretting it already?” 

Draco pretended to ponder this. “Kiss me again and see.”

* * *

On Christmas morning, six people Flooed into the Burrow. The rest of the family was already gathered in the cramped living space. Molly and Arthur shared the loveseat; Fleur and Hermione as well as Neville and Percy shared pillows on the floor; Bill and Charlie stood together in the kitchen doorway, chatting; and Fred and Angelina sat side by side on the staircase, with George seated in Angelina’s lap. 

It was not quite what Molly thought her Christmas would look like. Her son’s wife cuddling another woman. Two other sons sharing the same girlfriend. Or another son doting on a young man. Molly clutched her rum eggnog in her lap as she smiled fretfully around. 

Strangest of all was Severus Snape stepping through her Floo. It was inhuman, how gracefully he stepped out of the grate, how easily he reached out his arm for the incoming Harry Potter. Poor dear had never gotten the hang of Flooing. 

And what an odd pair they made. Severus in his gloomy black robes, even on a holiday! (If he stuck around, she’d be knitting him something green next year. No, not green - maroon or burgundy would look lovely on him. Green for Harry, of course, with those eyes.) And sweet Harry embraced in those possessive arms, grinning up cheerily and wearing last year’s navy blue jumper. She so hoped he would like this year’s purple (for Pride of Portree.)

Severus muttered rudely about careless, clumsy Gryffindors and Harry laughed. He laughed! Well, as long as he was happy, Molly supposed. Though couldn’t he have been happy with Ginny? 

Ginny came next, also wearing last year’s jumper. What good children they were, the both of them. If only they would get back together. She could knit them and any future grandbabies matching jumpers.

Though the Malfoy boy really wasn’t so bad. He stepped through next, quite dashing in his jade green robes. (If he stuck around, she’d like to see him in soft gray, or even white.) Whatever their families’ history, he had been perfectly polite. And so handsome! 

To Molly’s surprise, a young lady arrived next. Pansy Parkinson, if Molly had to guess, as Ron had accompanied her to the Malfoy party the night before. Pansy wore dark red robes with matching nails and lipstick, and her dark hair was in a plait hanging over her shoulder. Quite pretty, really, and Molly sat straighter, her smile at ease. She gave her husband’s knee a squeeze. Their Ronnie brought a girl home!

Ron came last and lightly shoved Draco forward. “C’mon then, make room!”

“Ronald!” Molly fussed. “Please, everyone, make yourselves at home. It’s a bit cramped, I’m afraid. Our family just keeps growing!” She smiled hopefully at Ron. 

Severus sank into the free armchair and Harry perched comfortably on the arm. Arthur gave her hand a pat, sensing her discomfort. Molly smiled at him, then turned back to the four still fidgeting before the hearth. 

“So, Ron, you’ve brought home a lady?” Arthur asked.

“Actually,” Ginny announced, reaching across Draco to snatch Pansy’s hand, “I did.” 

* * *

Molly blinked. Arthur took her hand and she squeezed it tightly. Whispers broke out around them but for the twins who hooted. Harry tried to sit up straighter, but ended up falling into Severus’s lap. Severus, who muttered and righted him, but left his arms wrapped around his middle. Molly was starting to feel faint. 

“Draco and I were never dating. I’m gay, actually. And Pansy is...I love Pansy,” Ginny said. Ginny grinned proudly at the room, an expression that softened when she turned to Pansy. Pansy, who squealed and swept in to kiss Ginny happily. Kiss and kiss and kiss as the twins and Harry cheered their approval. Molly’s whimper went unheard. Both girls were flushed by the time they parted, and Ginny finished her announcement, “We’re girlfriends and we’ve been together for nearly a year now.” 

“Oh,” said Molly. 

“Uh, yes. Welcome, Pansy!” Arthur said, pumping brightness in his voice to make up for Molly’s weakness. 

“About time, Gin!” Harry teased.

“Oh, shut it,” Ginny laughed. “And, of course, Draco is a dear friend of mine, now. He was only helping me...well. He was helping.” 

Ron shot Draco an uncertain look. Draco looked uncertainly back. Then Draco squared his shoulders and announced, “Ron fancies me, so I’m doing him the great honor of accompanying him as his date.”

And Ron beamed at him. And Draco smiled back so fondly…

Arthur placed his hand over Molly’s then took her glass from her. “Let’s get you more eggnog, Molly-dear.” 

Molly wrung her hands in her lap as Arthur walked to the kitchen. Fred and George had bounded up to harass their siblings and their dates. Hermione was exclaiming how “I just knew it!” and Harry was cuddled close to Severus, whispering in his ear. Ginny had her arm wrapped around Pansy’s waist. And she was smiling - her sweet girl was smiling so big. 

No, this was not what Molly had envisioned for Christmas. Not this Christmas, not any Christmas. She had hoped for a grandchild from Fleur by now, and for Charlie and Percy to settle down with nice witches. For Ron and Hermione, and Harry and Ginny, to get back together, so that Harry and Hermione could be official Weasleys. She’d even entertained hopes of Fred and George meeting a nice set of twin girls, one for each. Surely not _sharing_ Angelina Johnson! 

Molly was a little old-fashioned, and unprepared for any of her children to come out the way they had this year. Unprepared, but cautiously hopeful for their futures. After all, they were all open and honest with her now. All save Charlie had found love, or the potential for it. And they were all here with her on this special holiday.

When Arthur rejoined her, it was to place a new glass carefully in her hand. It was to sit beside her, as he had for over three decades. It was to take her hand in his, to offer his comfort and his support and his love. Her Arthur was a good man, a good husband and father. He had always been so good to her. 

And if her children could find love like this...Well. Did it matter what that love looked like? 

“Merry Christmas, dears!” Molly finally said. “Does anyone want fruitcake? Gingerbread? Now, now, you need eat something!”

~Fin~


End file.
